


Secret (Santa) Identity

by airspaniel



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-01
Updated: 2008-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airspaniel/pseuds/airspaniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire Bennet, age six, has a startling revelation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret (Santa) Identity

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/undermistletoe/profile)[**undermistletoe**](http://community.livejournal.com/undermistletoe/) 2008\. And it would have been posted nearly THIRTEEN HOURS AGO if I hadn't been stuck in airports all day and then had to go straight to work. Oof... Comments/crit always welcome. :) Happy holidays!!

"When's Daddy coming home?"

Mrs. Bennet sighed, pulling her daughter in close and stroking her soft, blonde curls. "Sweetheart, Daddy's at work. This is a very busy time of year for him."

Claire wrinkled her nose. "But it's Christmas!"

"I know, sweetie. And I know Daddy wants to be here with us very much. But he has a very important assignment in New York City. It's just a couple more days."

On the floor, Lyle sniffed into the belly of the teddy bear he was holding. "Santa still coming?" he asked, voice quavering as only a deeply concerned four-year-old's can.

"Lyle, don't be dumb! Of course he is!"

"Claire!" Mrs. Bennet snapped. "Don't call your brother names!"

Claire crossed her arms and sat up straight, projecting all the big-sister-authority she could muster. "I'm just saying," she said, pleased to use such a mature phrase. "Santa always comes. It's his job."

Mrs. Bennet said something reassuring then and gathered the children up for bed, but Claire barely noticed, for she had just made an _awesome_ realization.

 _Daddy's at work._

 _Santa always comes. It's his job._

 _This is a very busy time of year for him._

And maybe this is only Claire's sixth Christmas, and she's only had three she can really remember, but some things are just obvious.

\-----

"Lyle! Lyle, wake up!"

"Mama?" Lyle blinked sleepily. Then, after a moment: "Claire! Go 'way! It's bedtime."

"No, Lyle, get up!" Claire tugged on his arm til he nearly fell out of bed. "This is important!"

"What is?"

Claire smiled, all teeth and mischief. "We're going to catch Santa."

Lyle sat up, clutching his bear tight. "B-but Claire..." he whispered, starting to tear up a little. "Santa won't come if we're not asleeping..."

"Hey, hey!" Claire hissed, putting a hand over her brother's mouth. "It's okay! He will. We just have to make him _think_ we're asleep. Here, help me..." She grabbed his pillow, shoving it down under the blanket and fluffing it around to make it look like someone was sleeping in the bed.

Thrilled at the illusion, Lyle laughed and clapped his hands, tucking his bear in to give the pillow body a head.

"Now come on," Claire ordered, taking Lyle's hand. "And be quiet. We're asleep, remember?"

Lyle nodded solemnly and they snuck out, creeping down the hall hand in hand.

\-----

Downstairs looked different in the dark. Bigger. Scarier. The walk to the living room seemed endless, fraught with peril, and Lyle was holding on to Claire's wrist with both hands so tight she couldn't feel her fingers anymore.

It was worth it, though, when they could see the white lights twinkling on the Christmas tree, and Claire knew they were safe.

"Okay," she said. "Now we just wait."

It was quiet for a few minutes, the soft rumbles and burbles of the house the only sounds that could be heard. Then...

"Claire?"

"Yeah?"

"Um... why are we catching Santa?"

Claire sighed impatiently. "Because I want to see Daddy."

Lyle considered this. "Okay."

And a moment later: "Claire?"

"Yeah?"

"Santa's bringing Daddy with him?"

Claire sighed even more impatiently. "No, dummy, Santa _is_ Daddy."

Lyle considered _this_. "Okay."

But upon further review... "Claire?"

"What, Lyle?!"

"Daddy doesn't look like Santa."

"Of course he doesn't! If he looked like Santa, then people would just be bugging him about presents all the time, get it?"

Lyle nearly did. "So... Santa doesn't look like Santa?"

"Exactly. Now stay quiet."

"Okay," Lyle nodded enthusiastically, settling in beside his sister for the long wait.

\-----

Claire woke up to the sound of keys in the front door. Lyle was sound asleep on the floor next to her, one hand curled loosely around her foot. She shook it off and crept forward, peering toward the sound.

For a moment, she was disappointed that Santa wouldn't be coming down the chimney. But it didn't make much sense for him to mess with the reindeer and the chimney stuff if he had keys.

Mr. Bennet closed the door quietly behind himself and slipped off his shoes. If Claire inched just a _little_ closer, she'd be able to see what presents he'd brought. She craned her neck up, almost there...

"Claire! Claire, where'd you go?!" Lyle cried out in a sleepy panic.

"Lyle! You ruin everything!" Claire yelled, just as Mr. Bennet shouted, "Lyle? Kids! What are you doing down here?"

"Noah!" Mrs. Bennet called out "Is that you?" She ran down the stairs, robe flapping around her knees, and stopped short when she saw the scene.

"What on _Earth_ is going on?"

"Claire did it!" Lyle cried, shuffling towards his mom. "She told me we had to catch Santa, 'cause Daddy's Santa, and she made me pretend to be asleep and hide behind the couch, and now we won't get any presents 'cause Santa knows we're not asleeping!"

Mrs. Bennet picked him up and held him tight. "It's all right, sweetheart, it's okay," she soothed. "Santa will still bring you toys."

Lyle quieted a little bit, and Mrs. Bennet leaned over to kiss her husband. "Noah, I'm so happy you're home. Thank you."

"Merry Christmas, Sandra," Bennet smiled, still a little confused.

Merry Christmas, love," she smiled back, then raised one eyebrow reprovingly. "But maybe a phone call first, next time?"

He chuckled and she turned back toward the stairs, . "I'm gonna put Lyle to bed. Maybe you should have a little talk with your daughter."

Claire was standing in the entryway, hands folded behind her back, completely abashed.

"Claire-bear," he father began, sweeping her up into a hug.

"Hi, Daddy," she said sheepishly.

"Why were you kids out of bed?"

"I wanted to see you, for Christmas. I promise I won't tell anyone!"

"Tell anyone what, Claire-bear?"

"About your secret identity. And I promise I won't cry when you have to work on Christmas anymore, even though I really, really, _really_ miss you."

Noah adjusted his glasses and shifted Claire's weight to his hip to carry her upstairs. "Honey, I don't have a secret identity."

"It's okay, Daddy. You can trust me." Claire winked conspiratorially and rested against her father's shoulder. His big, strong hand came up and cradled her head, and she yawned. Suddenly, she was very sleepy.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Claire-bear." Noah shook his head, laughing as he tucked Claire back into bed.

"Now, you'd better get to sleep before Santa gets here," he said, and kissed her forehead.

"Okay, Daddy," murmured Claire, fighting to keep her eyes open.

"I love you, Claire," Mr. Bennet smiled, and turned out the light. But just before it went out, Claire saw that merry twinkle in her father's eye and she knew, just _knew_ , that she'd been right all along.

"I love you, too, Daddy Santa." she whispered, and fell right to sleep.  



End file.
